


Short Minutes

by DetectiveRoboRyan



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Bittersweet, F/F, Femslash, Unrequited Love, Weddings, fefemslashweek, this is so gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 00:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7912597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DetectiveRoboRyan/pseuds/DetectiveRoboRyan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Robin's wedding, and Tharja did not get the girl. But she's alright with that, in a weird way. They're both alright with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Short Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> this is hella gay

Royal weddings are supposed to be joyful occasions. That's what Tharja assumes, anyway, since she's never been "in" enough with anyone royal at the same time as a wedding happened before. She liked that fine. That's not why she's sour.  
  
It's the bride— the mean, jealous part of her says that should be her bride, not the bride of Prince Poofy-pants. But she knows it wouldn't work out like that anyway. Really, Tharja is better off alone.  
  
"Enjoying the party?" The bride— Robin, dressed in a Ylissean white bridal gown with matching Ylissean norms that do not suit her— says to her, leaning over just so. When Tharja turns, her eyes are level with Rajni's collarbone. It's not a bad view in the slightest, but she shifts her eyes away anyway.  
  
"When will it be over?" Tharja mumbles.  
  
"In time," Robin says. "You've done a wonderful job of not hexing anyone."  
  
Tharja rolls her eyes. "It reeks of Ylisse in here. It doesn't suit you." She murmurs the last part. She knows why Robin goes along with all of the pomp and circumstance, and it's one of the only things she can bring up that Robin won't have a quip to refute.  
  
"Yes, well," Robin murmurs back, "I can't see Chrom agreeing to a Plegian ceremony. He can't even pronounce my name."  
  
"You haven't told him your name," Tharja retorts.  
  
"But if I had, he wouldn't be able to pronounce it," Robin replies. "It's better this way." She's telling herself more than she is Tharja. That's fair, Tharja understands.  
  
Robin straightens. "Care to dance, my lady?" she says, offering Tharja a hand. Tharja furrows her eyebrows and looks up. Robin is smiling, and there's a sly glimmer in her eye. The sparkle makes her heart pound louder in her ears. What she wouldn't give to have that all to herself, all the time…  
  
But that is neither here nor there. Tharja looks from the hand to the owner. "What?"  
  
"I promised you ages ago," Robin says. "I'd save you a dance when I got married. I got married, so here's that dance."  
  
 "You can't have remembered that," Tharja denies.  
  
"I did," Robin promises. "Come on. Just one song?"  
  
Tharja won't pretend she hadn't thought of this. _But what does it mean,_ she tells herself bitterly. _It's just one song, and she'll go back into her prince's arms after this._  
  
"People will say things," she says.  
  
"People always say things," Robin replies.  
  
Tharja swallows. "You know how I—"  
  
"How you feel?" Robin tilts her head, raises an eyebrow.  
  
And Tharja averts her eyes again. "How I feel. How I am. How I can never be like your knight in shining armor, over there."  
  
"I'm glad you're not," Robin says. "I know you're not the stalker you pretend to be to me, Tharja. You're more in love with the idea of me than me."  "The idea of you can't possibly reject me," Tharja says, quietly. "If you're an idea, then things can work out without any problems. If you're an idea, then there's nothing stopping us from being us. But you aren't an idea."  
  
"I'm sorry," Robin says, and Tharja wants to ask, why in the world are you apologizing? "I can never be that version of me you're in love with."  
  
"There's nothing to be sorry about," Tharja replies. "You're happier with him. I respect that. And it doesn't hurt as much as you think it does."  
  
Robin knows it does, and Tharja knows she knows that, but neither of them will say it.  
  
"I want you to be happy, too," Robin says. "So, will you dance with me?"  
  
And Tharja looks at the hand, and up to its owner. This time she takes it, and for a few short minutes, pretends it is another wedding with two brides instead of one.  
  
It hurts. But it won't forever.


End file.
